Join the Club
by Short-circuit-Soulmate
Summary: Draco and Blaise were friends for years, but that changes when a certain muggleborn gets in the way. Convinced his friend is a blood-traitor, and forced to join the Potions Club, Draco is about to realise torture comes in the form of a frizzy-haired little Potions Club President: Hermione Granger. But Draco should be careful if he doesn't want to become a blood-traitor himself.


_A/N: Hello! I'm excited to be uploading the beginning of a new story, and I'm excited to see where it goes. I was so surprised by how much people loved 'The Fine Line Between Love and Hate', and I hope this one pleases just as much. _

_Sticking to my normal love of Dramione, but adding a little bit of my other love Blaise to spice things up, I hope this story appeals to everyone. It will be an eventual love-triangle (a theme I've wanted to do for a while). It contains potty-mouth language, so you've been warned. ;)_

_Please review and let me know what you think of the first chapter._

_Thanks for reading!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<br>**

_**Maybe we're different.**_

"The result's for the last Potion exam are posted on the notice board outside," Professor Snape's smooth drawl echoed out in the silent Potions class room. "Those of you have not attained a score above the red line will need to vastly improve if you wish to pass your N.E.W.T's in this class. Perhaps Divination would have been your better choice. Class dismissed."

A few students looked nervous, obviously suspecting their name to be one of the unfortunate ones below that line. Draco smirked, knowing it would certainly not be his. However, the pleasure of that thought was dashed, as he eyed Hermione Granger stuffing her books and quills into her bag with unusual carelessness, obviously eager to see her name at the top of that list. Draco scowled in her direction, though she was too preoccupied to notice.

Six years had passed where that little mudblood had beaten him in every class they shared. It was never by much, but always enough to anger his father to the point where he would feel the need to tell Draco what a failure he was.

This year was no different. They were only weeks into their 7th year, and she'd already beaten him in Potions, Defence and Transfiguration. He'd stopped counting after that.

He stood and stuffed his books in his bag, not really eager to get to the notice board like the other students. He knew his name wouldn't be next to that number one, and that wasn't good enough for him.

Beside him, Blaise Zabini sighed.

"I wish he wouldn't post the result's for everyone to see," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Blaise was tall and lean, much like Draco, however, his skin was dark, and his hair sat in long strands of ebony that often covered his dark eyes. He and Draco had been friends for years, and the blond was one of his only friends. Zabini seemed to prefer it that way.

Many people thought him rude because of his lack of social interaction, but he had created a friendship with his dorm mates and that seemed to be enough for him. Oddly enough, Draco was surprised at how well they got along as they were complete opposites. Blaise was only ruthless when he needed to be, and to Draco it just came naturally in everything he did.

Draco scoffed at the boys declaration, "What are you worried about? You know you'll be in the top five. That'll be enough to keep your mother happy."

Blaise shrugged. "I'd just prefer to keep the results to myself. Everyone knows Granger will get first anyway, why do we even fucking bother trying?"

"Agreed," Draco mumbled to himself, as they stepped out of the room into the dark, stone corridor.

The crowd of student's had mostly dispersed by that point, but Draco spotted Granger walking down the corridor with what he would describe as a new-found spring in her step. He resisted the urge to curse her, already knowing the results from that indication alone.

On the board, Hermione Granger's name sat next to a large number one. Draco's name sat below her next to a two. And then Blaises' name next to a three.

They didn't bother reading any more results, as they began walking back to the Slytherin dorms.

"I'm happy with that, I guess," Blaise told him. "Though, the amount I studied for that test, I'm surprised I even got in the top five."

Draco knew Blaise never had anything to worry about, he was always in the top five. It was all natural intelligence, much like Draco. Yet, Blaise always did worry. He wasn't sure why, though. His mother was the type who would praise you, even if you had just performed the killing curse on someone. It left little motivation to try, though Draco wouldn't mind a little leverage like that from his father.

Draco merely mumbled in response to Blaises ridiculous fears. He could feel his stomach churning at the prospect of another letter from his father in regards to his failure to beat the mudblood. The last one had been quite expressive- he was unsure what this one would hold. It was not a case of if, but when, it arrived.

"I just don't know how she does it," Blaise mused, his expression one of admiration. Draco eyed him with a raised brow. "Granger, I mean. She's number one in every class. How the fuck does she do it? Once I study for Potions, I'm too exhausted to even look at the rest of my homework."

Draco shrugged, not really wanting to talk about that mudblood any longer. "She has no life outside of her books, that's what."

Blaise didn't comment, and the topic was dropped. However, Draco would never admit that he thought about it constantly.

His whole life he had been told that he was better than her in every way. His blood, his name, his reputation. He was supposed to be superior in every way, except he wasn't. She had topped him in every class they shared, and no matter how much he studied, or how many times he revised his assignments, she was always one step ahead. He was starting to realise that blood didn't really come to play in this situation.

Draco hadn't always been studious. During his first years at Hogwarts, he often found impressionable Ravenclaws who were willing to accept a few Galleons in exchange for an Outstanding assignment, but over the years the one-sided competition with Granger had gotten the best of him, and he found himself becoming more determined, especially after his father's 'encouragement'.

Now, it seemed like all he did was study. The start of the 7th year had brought with him a realisation that it would all soon be over, and if he didn't graduate with an Outstanding score in every subject, his father would give him hell for the rest of his life.

Quidditch was a hobby he enjoyed, too. Plus, the satisfaction of kicking Potter's arse made it worth the extra time spent away from school-work. Ironically, now that he was team Captain, his father approved of it. At least there were no mudbloods to beat him at Quidditch, just a half-wit with glasses.

School work. Quidditch. School work. Quidditch. That's all he had time to think about any more.

At dinner that night, Draco sat at the Slytherin table, barely listening to the conversation between Nott and Zabini.

Theodore Nott had been their room mate since first year, and while he was quite the git, he still managed to fool female, after female, into thinking he was a nice person, at least for a little while. Subsequently, he always had a string of girls to choose from for his nightly romps. The boy was tall, but stocky. He had dark brown hair with green eyes to match. He sent girls into a flurry whenever he walked by.

"I've never heard of her," Blaise replied with little interest, stuffing a piece of potato into his mouth. Nott had just finished telling them about his date for the night. A girl from Ravenclaw, whose name was Susan. Draco had heard of her, but not for good reason.

Nott's green eyes narrowed at him. "Are you serious? You've never heard of Susan? Mate, that's just sad. She's not exactly picky, so what does that say about you?"

Blaise chewed his food slowly, the heat in his face rising from clear annoyance. He swallowed, before speaking.

"It means I, at least, want a girl who hasn't had the whole school," he replied, clearly trying to keep his cool. "I want a girl with brains and standards, which is probably why _you_ should stick to girls like Susan. Why attempt the impossible?"

Draco smirked at Nott's expression. The former had little interest in any of the female students; they were all whimpering idiots. Sure, he had slept with a few, but they never piqued his interest more than once. That's why he didn't understand how Nott could pretend to give a shit about these idiot girls for long enough to get laid. Draco couldn't stand conversing with them for more than five minutes.

"That sounds like the kind of thing people say when they can't get anyone," Nott replied, biting the food off his fork with a little too much ferocity.

Blaise merely narrowed his eyes, before turning his glare to his plate. He never won these arguments with Nott. Nott was ruthless, and would say anything to offend and anger. Blaise just couldn't keep up. Sure, he was a Slytherin, but Draco sometimes wondered if he would have made it this far without him.

"What do you think, Malfoy?" Nott turned to him, back to his normal, smart-arse demeanour.

"About what?" The blond replied. He'd wanted to stay out of their argument; it was petty, and he was far too tired and stressed.

"I'm sure Susan has a friend who'd be happy to be your 'date' for the night."

"I'll pass," Draco replied, barely interested.

Nott shook his head in disgust. "What is _wrong_ with you two?"

Draco merely shrugged in response. He didn't really have an interest in sex at the moment. He had read somewhere once that stress can have a derogatory effect on you, and he was sure he was a victim. Either way, with the amount of sleep he was getting recently, he could barely manage to get himself off, let alone let some idiot girl take the lead.

Nott turned the offer to to their other room mate, Thomas Culver, who quickly accepted.

After the students had poured out of the Great Hall, Draco grabbed his book bag and headed to the library. They had been given Transfiguration homework to complete that night, and Draco wasn't exactly a rule-abiding student, but he knew not to fuck with Professor McGonagall.

He sat down at his usual table, which was situated securely among a few shelves, meaning he rarely got bothered- not that anyone with half a brain would dare too.

He began wandering through the shelves looking for books, until he spotted a familiar face through a large gap where someone had taken several books in a row. It was Zabini.

Draco began to make his way around the shelf to complain about their ridiculous homework assignment, when he realised Blaise wasn't alone. He was leaning casually against the bookshelf behind him, his arms crossed, and beside him at a desk, with dozens of books piled around her, was Hermione Granger.

Draco narrowed his eyes. What the hell was going on there?

"I already told you," Hermione said, tiredly, barely looking up from her work, "I merely study- a lot."

"So you don't cheat?" Blaise asked. Hermione's head shot up to look at him, her expression one of outrage.

"No!" She snapped. Blaise held his hands up in defence.

"I was just making sure," he said quickly, looking nervous at her sudden anger. "It's just, well, you're quite impressive."

She looked down at her books, scribbling away, but Draco didn't miss the colour rising on her cheeks. It annoyed him. Why was Blaise even talking to her? She was so far below them.

"I merely study," she replied, repeating her earlier sentiment.

Draco was sure this was the first time she'd ever spoken to a Slytherin so casually. Normally she had her guard dogs there to protect her. Draco sneered at the thought of those two idiots.

"Alone?" Blaise asked.

She stopped writing and looked at him for a moment, "For the most part. Sometimes with Harry and Ron, but they prefer to stay away from the library. They say it smells."

It did smell.

"Oh," Blaise responded, as though he wanted to say more, but didn't dare.

She eyed him for a moment, before going back to her page. Zabini continued standing beside the table.

After a few seconds, she looked back up, barely holding back her irritation. "Was there something else?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, standing straight. "I was just thinking maybe we could study together some time?"

Draco eyes widened in shock, at the same time hers did.

She stared at him, as though gauging the authenticity of his request, but when he didn't burst out laughing, she assumed he was serious.

"Why?" She asked, before narrowing her eyes. "Did Malfoy put you up to this?"

Blaise shook his head. "No. Definitely not. No one knows I'm asking. I just want better mark's, and who better to ask than the person coming first in every class she takes?"

She looked chuffed, but still not convinced. "Why not ask Malfoy? He's coming second."

"He's not exactly the 'friendly, helpful' type," Blaise responded.

The comment annoyed Draco, but he would admit it was true.

"And what makes you think I am? I don't know you; I don't trust you. You're Malfoy's best friend."

She eyed him with suspicion. Draco had to admit, she was awfully paranoid. It was amusing.

"But I'm not like him. I promise," he said quickly. Draco felt himself grow hot with anger. "We've had completely different upbringings. He was raised to hate everyone."

He chuckled, though Draco really didn't see the humour in it.

Blaise knew the nature of Draco's upbringing. The violence it involved, and the unreachable standards that were set. It was all well and good when Blaise could leave at the end of the day, and go back to his simpering mother, but not everyone could leave. It angered him that Blaise would make light of this situation, after all the years he bore witness.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking her head. "Sorry, I just can't trust you. I don't really have the time anyway."

She stood and gathered her things quickly, before leaving Blaise alone in the secluded area. Draco considered moving around the shelf and letting his friend have it, but Blaise stalked off just as quickly.

He had never imagined Blaise to have a negative opinion of him. And as much as he didn't want to admit, it was upsetting. He and Blaise had been friends for years, since before Hogwarts. Blaises father was an old family friend of Lucius Malfoy, and when he died, Blaise was over at the Manor more than ever, as his mother had finally regained her freedom, and was travelling often.

The lack of a father figure had left Blaise vulnerable; he was quiet, and easily upset. Draco was the complete opposite. Draco, surprisingly, felt responsible for ensuring that Blaise was tough enough to not be pushed around, and he managed to do a good job of it.

When they had entered Hogwarts, Draco was surprised that Blaise had been picked as a Slytherin. Sure, he had learnt some useful attributes, but in all honesty, he thought he was set for Ravenclaw.

But over the years, with Draco's help, he'd learnt enough to help him survive in Slytherin, even if it wasn't enough to take on Theodore Nott.

Maybe he was more of a Slytherin than Draco had realised.

It was why he was so irritated now. Draco had given him too much for him to just throw it away, and Granger was below them, Blaise knew this. He just didn't seem to care, something Draco couldn't fathom in a world where reputation was everything.

Blaise was unusually quiet the next few days, and even when Nott brought up a new girl each night at dinner, he didn't bother to reprimand him for his lack of standards. Even Nott eyed him, waiting for the argument, and looked rather surprised when none came. Draco wondered if it had something to do with his conversation with Granger, but assumed not. Why would it bother him that much?

This behaviour continued until the weekend came.

Nott was once again talking excitedly about yet another female that he was meeting in the Astronomy Tower that night.

"She's got a friend who is keen on you, Malfoy. What do you think?"

Malfoy had to actually think about this one. It had been a long time since he'd been with someone, and he would be tempted if the girl were half good-looking, and not a simpering idiot; but, alas, they all were at Hogwarts.

He shook his head in denial, "I'll pass."

Nott let out a menacing groan. "Seriously, one day I'll stop asking and you'll regret it."

He highly doubted it on both parts.

Nott turned and made the offer to Culver who, surprisingly, also declined.

"Sorry mate, but I heard Granger's on duty tonight and there's no way I'm risking it. She's the only one who wont accept a few Galleons to look the other way."

Nott scoffed at the warning.

"You think our goody-two-shoes Head Girl will do anything to me? I'd have her quivering in fear-or other ways." He winked at the implication.

Draco made a face. Why was everyone so open to talking about her. Didn't they have any pride in their superiority? He preferred to pretend she didn't exist.

He opened his mouth to make a remark, but found Blaise butt-in before him.

"Just because there's one girl in this school that doesn't bow at your feet." He snapped, glaring at Nott.

They stared at him in shock for a moment, before Nott broke out into a large, shit-eating grin.

"Well, well, well," he began, looking amused, while Blaise scowled, "I think Blaise has found his perfect girl. Nerdy, desperate, and not pretty enough that _I_ would try it on with her. You might actually stand a chance, mate."

Draco watched Blaises expression turn from sour, into full blown anger. He stood from the table abruptly, causing the plates around them to clatter from the movement.

"Sod off," he growled, before leaving the table and stalking out of the hall.

Nott looked amused. "I guess I hit a sensitive spot."

Draco didn't respond, but merely wondered if Nott was right. Or perhaps Blaise was still sour over Granger's denial to help him. He didn't know, but either way, he thought it a ridiculous thing to get mad over.

That night, the dorm was empty. Blaise had gone to sulk somewhere, Nott was out with a witch, and Culver was in the common room chatting.

The Quidditch season wasn't due to start for another couple of weeks, but Draco was already itching to fly. He had snuck out a few times last year without being caught, but he had also been caught for a lot of other things, which left his leverage pretty short with the Professors. It mostly involved pranks on unsuspecting students, but it left him closer and closer to expulsion each time.

However, he _was_ a Prefect, and if he was caught he could just say he'd been patrolling. The teacher's didn't really check the rosters that much. He was sure it was written by Granger, and the pathetic excuse for a Head boy, a no-name from Hufflepuff.

When the sound of the clock ticking became too much, he couldn't take it. He slipped out of the dorm, and decided that it was worth the risk.

The process of sneaking out was relatively easy. He unlocked the Entrance Hall doors, and lay his cloak down between them to allow him entry again without them closing. He raced down toward the broom sheds, and unlocked them, grabbing his own Nimbus 2001 that sat in his locker.

The flying was magnificent, and he had missed it badly. He soared over the black lake, watching himself in the mirror-like reflection below. He weaved by the trees at the edge of the forbidden forest, watching mysterious eyes glow in the darkness.

After a solid hour of back-flips and manoeuvres, and he felt less tense, though, that feeling was always a constant for him.

He made his way back to the castle doors, and pushed them open. He removed his cloak out of the door, and allowed it to close with a soft creak. As soon as it did, however, he heard someone clear their throat behind him, in an obvious fashion. He sighed to himself. Fucking great. This would be hard to explain.

He turned slowly, expecting to see the face of Professor Snape or McGonagall, or even Filch; what he wasn't expecting was the haughty expression on Hermione Granger's face as she eyed him with a questioning glare.

Beside her, stood a very dishevelled Theodore Nott, his face contorted into pure irritation. He had obviously been caught on his 'date' in the Astronomy Tower.

"Run while you can," Nott muttered blandly, earning a glare from Granger. She turned back to Draco, her nose in the air.

"What, exactly, are you doing sneaking back into the castle at this time of night?" She asked. He could see her forced coolness, and knew deep down she was uncomfortable in the presence of the two Slytherins.

He didn't blame her, really. He had only stopped the bad torture a couple of years ago, when he was warned by Professor Snape that he was on very thin ice. He wouldn't risk expulsion over a mudblood, or even her dimwit friends, so he had cooled it slightly. Only slightly, but enough to let him get away unnoticed.

He crossed his arms in front of him. How dare she demand explanations from him.

"I was patrolling outside," he lied smoothly. She narrowed her eyes.

"You're not even rostered on, Malfoy. I wrote it myself," she shot back. It was worth a try.

"Bloody hell, Granger. I'm a prefect, if I need to leave the castle, I have every right," he scowled. "I certainly don't have to explain myself to a mudblood."

She grit her teeth, and he saw her eyes glistening in the light. He almost laughed out loud. After all these years, that name still made her want to cry like it did the first time he'd said it.

"Come with me," she ordered, heading toward the dungeon stairs. "I'm taking you both to Professor Snape; he can deal with you."

Malfoy and Nott shared a look. They knew they were both on thin ice. Nott had been caught sneaking out multiple times, and Malfoy already had a history of offences. Snape was not going to let them off easy this time.

As they walked down the dark dungeon corridor, Malfoy watched as Granger's ridiculous curls bounced in front of him. He glared at her back.

With each step, her neck was exposed slightly. Under that robe, she was quite small. Small enough that he could stop her if he really wanted to, but in the end he knew he didn't have much choice but to follow her to his punishment.

She left once professor Snape answered her knock, and both boys gave her a threatening glare as she walked away. Draco heard Nott swear under his breath.

Snape was displeased, to say the least.

"I only hold so much power," he told them. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster of this school, and if he decides you are..nuisances," he eyed them both, "then I will not be stopping him from handing down a punishment he sees fit. As for now..."

The both received the removal of several house-points, and were both informed that a written warning would be received by their parents. This was what Draco had hoped to avoid.

Nott also received a month's detention for participating in forbidden act's within the school grounds.

When they were dismissed, he grumbled.

"That fucking mudblood bitch will get what's coming, you can bet on that."

Draco felt a similar reaction, however, he actually cared about graduating, so he knew he would leave it. One mudblood was not worth his future; it was something he had never seen reason with before this year.

On Sunday, Draco arose reluctantly. The dorm was empty, and he found himself barely able to pull himself out of bed. He was expecting the letter from his father to arrive today, and despite the fact that he knew it was inevitable, he wanted to put it off as much as possible.

He showered and dressed slowly, and by the time he was ready, he was sure he had missed most of breakfast, and probably the mail owls.

The hall was half empty when he entered. Zabini, and most of the other Slytherins had already left, however Nott still sat in his seat, a sour expression on his face. Draco slipped in across from him. He eyed the remaining eggs and toast, but his stomach lurched with anxiety at the thought of eating.

"Did I miss the mail owls?" He asked the other boy. Nott merely gave a nod.

"Was there anything for me?" he asked, wondering if perhaps someone had taken his letter to the dungeons.

Nott shook his head.

Draco furrowed his brow. His father had never allowed him to get away with failure, so why would he now?

Surprisingly, his stomach eased slightly; at least enough for him to grab some eggs and toast.

He eyed Nott across from him.

"Are you still pissed about last night?" He asked. Nott grit his teeth.

"Everyone's pissed 'cause we lost points," he grumbled. "You're lucky you missed them."

Draco scoffed, "Since when do I give a fuck what anyone says?"

Nott shrugged, still glaring at the table.

"Still, that mudblood bitch should learn to mind her own business!" Nott growled, his green eyes lighting up with fury. "She walks around this school like she belongs here. She's not worthy of studying here!"

"How many years have I been saying that?" Draco said simply. "If my father weren't a Governor of this school, I would have transferred to Durmstrang a long time ago. There's nothing but mudbloods and mudblood sympathisers here."

Nott nodded quickly. "I know. I've been taught my whole life that I'm better than them, yet I come here, and they are being fucking praised!"

"The wizarding world is going soft," Draco informed him, biting into his toast. He was at least glad that some of the wizarding world still valued pure-bloods as the truly worthy. With the large influx of muggleborns, and half-bloods being born, things were starting to get diluted.

Nott looked thoughtful and determined. "I'm going to make that bitch pay. She'll be sorry she ever came to Hogwarts."

Draco eyed him with sudden annoyance. "Are you fucking daft? One more wrong move, and we're done for, mate."

Nott scoffed. "Why the fuck do you care? You have every right to get her back for what she's done over the years."

Draco sighed tiredly. "You don't think I know that? That fucking know-it-all has been the bane of my existence for years, but I wont go down for her. If I don't graduate, my father will fucking kill me."

Nott scoffed, before standing. "You're just as bad as everyone else here."

He stalked out of the hall, leaving Draco glaring after him.

In Draco's opinion, Nott was out of control. He wouldn't be pushed into taking stupid risks by him.

Draco finished his breakfast alone, and headed out into the Entrance hall. He saw his three least favourite people, Potter, Weasley and Granger, heading toward the court-yard doors, and sent them a severe glare. Two thirds of the groups reciprocated.

However, he was taken aback when he heard a familiar voice behind him. He turned, coming face to face with the stern, cold expression on his fathers face.

"Come with me," he said, his voice barely containing his anger. Draco spared a glance at the Gryffindor Trio, to see them eyeing the interaction with unbridled interest. Fucking great.

This must have been why he didn't get a letter. His father had decided to pay him a visit.

He followed the aristocratic man into an abandoned dungeon hallway, before he suddenly stopped and turned on Draco.

"I'm disappointed in you, once again."

'Here we go', Draco thought wryly, staring at the floor beside his father's black, dragon-hide shoes.

The didn't have a mark on them, though he'd owned them for years. His lucky shoes, he called them. He almost wanted to laugh as it occurred to him that his father cared for his shoes more than he cared for him. Though, the feelings were mirrored by Draco.

He felt no real emotion toward the man, and even now, as he raved on, he had no urge to argue back. No matter what he did, or said, or achieved, he would never live up to the expectation that had been placed on him for years.

There was no love in the Malfoy family. In public, they would put on a facade, as though Draco weren't a trouble-making disappointment. As though his father weren't an unhinged psychopath, who carried out the worst form of punishments on his son behind closed doors. As though his mother weren't becoming more and more distant, dosing herself with potions and concoctions to stave off the depression, and ignore the emptiness of their 'home'.

In public, they were better than everyone, but it was so far from true.

"Are you listening to me?" His father hissed angrily, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Lucius had pushed him roughly against the stone wall, gripping his collar.

"Yes," Draco mumbled.

"Yes, what?"

Draco grit his teeth. "Yes, _sir_."

He spat the last word, lacing it with all the hatred he could muster.

Lucius scowled.

"Don't get too cocky," the older man ground out, "you may be under Dumbledore's protective veil here, but you have to come home at some point, and that attitude will not be tolerated there."

The underlying threat was clear as day, and Draco stared back at identical grey eyes, waiting for them to snap.

"Lucius," a low drawl came from within the corridor, and the older man stepped away from Draco and brushed down his robes, as though trying to re-establish the facade. They both turned their heads to find Snape standing a few feet away. He was watching the interaction with an underlying interest, though his expression was as blank as ever.

"Severus!" Lucius greeted, heading toward the older man. "I've just dropped in to pay Draco a visit, but since I'm here we should discuss that funding for new Potions ingredients."

Snape glanced at Draco, before nodding at Lucius. "Certainly."

The two men left in the opposite direction, with Lucius sparing one last warning glance in Draco's direction, before they disappeared into Snape's office. Thank Merlin for his godfather.

Draco ran his hands through his hair, letting out an angered sigh. He stood off the wall and headed back toward the stairs that led up to the Entrance hall.

However, upon his foot reaching the first step, he noticed that the stairs were occupied with his least favourite people in the world.

The Gryffindor Trio stood in a group, half way up the stairs, arguing about something. They were so involved with it, that they hadn't even noticed him.

"It's Malfoy, Hermione, I think it's safe to say manners don't count when it comes to him!" Weasel argued, as Granger crossed her arms and shot daggers at the two.

"How would you like it if someone were to ease drop on one of your conversations? I'm sure you and Lavender would have been in a lot of trouble by now."

Weasel's face turned the same colour as his hair, and he stopped arguing.

"Hermione, it's Malfoy, we need all the info we can get," Potty told her, his voice attempting reason, though Draco knew he was as selfish as him was when it came down to it. He was just nosey.

She sputtered indignantly. "This isn't a war operation, Harry! This is Hogwarts! Don't make excuses for your bad behaviour."

Malfoy walked up a few steps, hands in his pocket, trying to portray coolness even if his previous altercation had left him unsettled.

"Trouble in paradise?" he questioned, his face contorted into a scowl. All three of their heads whipped around to look at him. Both Potter and Weasleys expression turned guarded, while Granger merely looked annoyed.

"Look who's talking," Weasley spat. "Looks like your father isn't so proud of you after all. Especially since you can't manage to beat Hermione. How ironic, since you're supposedly better than her in every way."

He had planned to stay cool and collected, but to hear Weasley, the biggest joke in this school, making fun of _him_, was just too irritating.

Draco lunged at the red-head, but found he was stopped by a warm, yet sturdy, sensation on his chest.

He looked down, to see a small hand against his chest, which he followed up an arm, and noticed it was attached to non-other than the mudblood.

She had stepped between them, her hand's holding them apart. Her face was angry, but determined.

"As Head Girl, I demand you stop this nonsense right now! Otherwise I'll take house points off _both_ of you, and you'll receive a weeks detention."

Draco moved back, contorting his face accurately into an expression of disgust, though in all honesty, it was simply to keep up appearances. "Get your filthy hands off me."

She moved her hand away, her eye's boring into his. "Get a move on, then."

He offered them once last scowl, before stalking towards the Entrance hall doors.

"You wouldn't really take house points off your own house would you?!" he heard Weasley ask her, distressed.

"If you're going to be foolish, then yes, I certainly would. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the library."

He didn't hear any more, as he slipped out the doors, into the court yard. He wondered where everyone had gotten to. He hadn't seen Zabini all morning, and he wasn't sure where Nott was.

He spotted Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other Slytherins under a tree near the lake and decided to join them. While he didn't speak to them much now, they still kissed the ground he walked on.

A couple of hours later, after a lot of Quidditch talk, the group headed back inside for lunch. On the way, however, a weedy first year Slytherin approached Draco, a small envelope in his hand. He looked nervous, as he handed it to Draco, who took it with confusion. The boy ran off just as quickly.

The other Slytherins headed in without him, and he opened the note, wondering who it could be from. It certainly wouldn't be his father; at least he hoped not.

The small note inside the envelope was written in a messy scrawl.

_Meet us down at the boat house when lunch starts._

That was all it said.

He wondered if it were a prank being played by the Gryffindors, but even then, his curiosity got the better of him. Instead of heading inside, he turned and began to walk down the small path that led to the boathouse.

As he entered the small shed several minutes later, he immediately felt a rush of shock and, oddly enough, anger.

Nott an Culver were laughing uncontrollably by the dock, as Hermione Granger flailed in the water, still fully clothed. Every time she tried to climb back onto the dock, they pushed her back in, taking pleasure in her distress.

Draco moved forward, ready to open his mouth, but as though the words were taken from him, a voice behind him verbalised his sentiments.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Zabini moved forward, eyeing each of the three boys with disgust. He raced toward the dock, and pulled the exhausted girl out of the water. She was panting and spluttering. Her skin was white, and she was shivering uncontrollably.

He crouched over her, his expression contorted in fury.

"I got a letter saying come down here, and I find you doing this? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He looked at each of them. Draco felt annoyed that he was being grouped with them, when he was just as surprised.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Nott was quicker.

"Seriously, Zabini? I thought you'd be happy to see her finally being put in her place. Maybe it'll teach her not to mess with us."

Zabini stood, lifting Hermione with him. Her clothes were drenched through, leaving her white blouse transparent. Draco pointedly looked at Nott.

"She's Head Girl, you idiot!" Zabini cried, "It's her fucking job! It's your own fault for gallivanting around with every girl in school and getting caught! If it's not her, it would be someone else. It's about time you all learnt that you don't run this fucking school."

Nott was shaking his head in disgust at Zabini. Culver was eyeing the whole interaction silently.

"And you." Zabini rounded on Draco, pinning him with a glare. "How did I know you'd be at the centre of this. You just can't accept that blood means nothing, can you? You're so fucking bitter that she makes your family look bad! We've been friends for years, and I've never felt so ashamed to say that!"

Draco stared at him, surprised that he would take her side in this.

"I had nothing to do with this!" Draco shot back, feeling the anger dissolve him.

Zabini eyed the other's, as though he may believe it.

"So are you both blood-traitors now?" Nott asked, eyeing them both with judgement and disdain.

Zabini turned to him, waiting for a response. As all eyes were on Draco, he suddenly felt the weight of his fathers words that had been spoken so many times. The whole world was watching them, and they couldn't show weakness.

Blaise had few connections in the wizarding world now that his father had passed, sure he was wealthy, but his mother did nothing with the mother other than let it build up. Nott's father, however, was a wealthy business man who often worked closely with Draco's father on different propositions.

Draco couldn't show weakness, though he thought that maybe he wanted to.

"I'm not a blood-traitor." he replied sternly, his eyes fixed on Blaise, "Are you Zabini?"

The Italian eyed him in disgust, and Draco had never seen that expression directed at him from his friend before. Draco had been hoping that Blaise would pick the side he always had. To follow them, even if it meant giving up his morals, but he knew this time was different.

Zabini began to move past Draco, Hermione at his side, still shivering furiously.

"You're weak, Zabini." Draco muttered for only him to hear."It's not how we do it in Slytherin."

Blaise stopped for only a moment. "Does it make me weak for following my morals, or does it make you weak for ignoring yours?"

It angered him to hear that.

"I don't have any," Draco said quickly, thinking he had won. But he realised after Blaise had left, that no one really won in that situation.

They attended lunch after that, though Draco had lost his appetite. Nott and Culver were still ranting furiously about Zabini's betrayal. The Italian and Granger had been absent for the rest of the afternoon.

After lunch, when they were called to Professor Snape's office, Draco had accepted it. He was going to be expelled.

When it was his turn to enter the office, he sat stiffly in the chair across from Professor Snape, not meeting the other man's eyes.

"You're back here sooner than I had thought," the Professor commented dryly. Draco didn't meet his eyes.

"With all due respect, Sir," Draco began, hiding his irritation, "let's not waste time. If the owl gets sent tonight, my father will get here in time to take me home tomorrow morning."

They were silent for a moment, he heard Professor Snape's chair creak as he leaned back.

"I dare say he would make sure of it," the older man agreed, "however you are not being expelled-this time, anyway."

Draco's eye's shot up to meet his. "Why?"

"It was Dumbledore's decision not to inform your father of today's incident. Sometimes I wonder if he knows more then he let's on."

Dumbledore? Since when had Dumbledore shown him any mercy?

"However, he is giving you one last chance. But these are his conditions."

Draco waited steadfastly, knowing it would be bad.

"You are to hand over your prefect badge immediately," Snape informed him, holding out his hand.

Draco sighed. He had enjoyed the perks that came with the position, but he was willing to give it up if it meant he was spared expulsion. He unpinned the silver badge from his cloak, and sat it in Professor Snape's out-stretched hand.

The older man tucked it away in his desk. Before his dark eyes turned back to Draco's.

"As of today, you are no longer a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team until your behaviour improves."

Draco stood abruptly, the chair screeching loudly as he did. "What? You can be serious! I'm the Captain!"

His chest was heaving with anger. He couldn't believe it. Quidditch was one of the only things he enjoyed.

Professor Snape eyed him with disapproval. "Not any more. Dumbledore doesn't believe you are fit to coach a team with such a negative attitude toward your fellow students. Which brings me to your final condition."

Draco sat back down weakly, still reeling from the news. Nothing could be worse than that.

"The Potions Club is a new group founded by Miss Granger. It runs two times a week in the Herbology Greenhouses, and you are expected to attend every meeting for the rest of the year. Dumbledore feels that it will prove you are able to work with those you have quarrelled with in the past. As Miss Granger has often been a target of yours, he sees it as a worthy challenge."

Draco stared at Professor Snape, trying to hold back his disgust.

"A worthy torture, more like it," he mumbled to himself. If Snape heard him, he ignored it.

"Normally the club has a limit of six members, but Dumbledore has made an exception for you. The next meeting is tomorrow afternoon. You are expected to attend. Is that clear?"

Draco grit his teeth. He had been spared expulsion, but he wasn't exactly happy about the conditions he must meet.

"Yes, Sir," Draco responded, though it wasn't easy for him to sound grateful.

When he was dismissed, he headed back to the Slytherin dorms, where he found Nott and Culver looking just as happy as he was.

"So I take it you got kicked off the team, too?" Nott grumbled.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I bloody well did. Thanks for that, by the way, dragging me into something I didn't have any involvement in!"

Nott looked defensive.

"You wanted revenge too! I didn't think Zabini would be a traitor, otherwise I wouldn't have risked it."

Draco shook his head. "So, it didn't cross your mind that she is best friends with two of my greatest enemies, and that she would most likely tell them? It was a stupid plan to begin with. Not subtle at all, just obnoxious and arrogant, and asking for trouble!"

Nott stood angrily, while Culver was still staring sulkily at the wall. They had been kept on the team this year, just like Draco, because of their exceptional skills as Chasers, however, all hopes of Slytherin winning this year were dashed, especially since they were losing three of the best players.

"I didn't fucking think! Look, I've been punished just as badly. I've got house points taken, detention for months, and this! I've suffered enough!"

Draco let out a wry laugh. "You think that's bad? Not only am I no longer Captain of the team, or a Prefect, I have to become a member of the fucking Potions Club in order to prove I can work with Granger, without killing her- which, by the way, I was perfectly happy to do because I'm _subtle_."

Nott stared at him, the defensiveness crackling from every limb. Malfoy continued.

"Now we have no fucking team when the season starts. We're down two Chasers and a Seeker, and just to top it off, we have no one to Captain the team."

They were interrupted by the dorm door closing loudly, standing in the door way, his expression guarded, was Zabini.

"Actually, I'll be the captain of the team this year," he stated, obviously hearing part of their conversation.

Nott broke out in obnoxious, forced laughter. Culver stared, surprised. Draco wore a similar expression.

"Something funny, Nott?" Blaise spat, looking annoyed at the other boy's amusement.

Nott's laughter subsided, and he stood upright, still wearing a vicious smirk. "Just the thought of you as Captain. What a joke."

Zabini walked into the room further, throwing his book bag down on his bed, before crossing his arms and glaring at Nott.

"Why is that a joke?" He asked, trying to stay calm.

Nott looked thoughtful. "Hmm, let me see. No one will respect or listen to you once they find out you're a blood traitor-,"

"Hardly anyone in Slytherin cares for that nonsense any more, only old families, who are most likely the product of incest."

Draco made a face. He was most certainly _not_ a product of incest. "Get your facts right. Zabini."

"-or when they find out you betrayed three of your fellow house mates and friends!" Nott finished over the top of everyone.

Zabini scoffed, shaking his head. "If that's how they see it, then that's their problem, but I was doing the right thing."

"Are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Hufflepuff, Zabini?" Nott snapped, "'Cause on my first night I was taught it was house over anything else. Not whether or not it was the 'right thing'."

Draco sat on his bunk, his hand rubbing his forehead. He was already in a bad mood, and listening to them argue wasn't helping.

"Seems I was the only one who grew up since first year," Blaise informed him.

Nott was clearly aggravated. He chuckled mirthlessly. "No, no, I think it's because your mother has loose morals, among other things, and it's rubbed off onto you; how many muggles has she slept with again?"

In an instant, Zabini had shot across the room, pinning Nott against the ground with one hand, and wailing into his face with the other. Several items on the night stand between them were knocked to the ground in their tussle.

Draco watched tiredly, hoping they could sort it out in that way, however Culver pulled Zabini away and the two wrestling boys were both glaring at each other more than ever.

"You'll regret that!" Nott cried, wiping his bloody lip.

"Doubt it," Zabini shot back, looking dishevelled, but uninjured. He grabbed his book bag, and with one last glare directed toward Nott, he stalked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

Draco could tell that things would be tense for a while.

The morning came too soon for Draco, and as he woke, he was surprised to find Blaise's bed empty. Draco was unsure of whether he had just gotten up early, or if he hadn't returned at all.

The classes that day were like a stand-off between Nott and Blaise.

Nott took a seat beside Draco, oblivious to the fact that the latter was still incredibly pissed at him. Zabini sat at a table on the other side of the room, and they glared at one another the whole time.

When Draco was finally granted some mercy, and classes for the day were finished, he remembered his afternoon meeting with the Potions club. He swore to himself, wondering why he had received the worst punishment of all.

"Just skip it," Nott told him, as they walked to the Slytherin dorms that afternoon.

He had to admit, the idea was tempting. What harm would it do to skip it this time? He could just say he forgot.

So instead of heading toward the Herbology Greenhouses, he headed toward the library to work on his Potions homework on the Draught of Living Death. It was a hard potion to get right, and they had to brew it on Wednesday, so he certainly wasn't going to waste his time learning first year potions in the greenhouses.

By the time he finished writing down his notes, it was time for dinner.

He packed up his books and notes, and headed toward the Great hall.

As he entered the Entrance Hall, he heard a feminine voice call out to him.

"Malfoy!"

He turned, curiously, to find Granger headed his way. He rolled his eyes.

"What is it?" he shot back, rudely.

She came to stand in front of him, her brown curls bouncing obnoxiously as she walked. He could see Potter and Weasley behind her, eyeing him with threatening expressions.

"I was expecting to see you at the Potions Club meeting this afternoon. We set up an extra cauldron for you."

He scowled. "How sweet."

She sighed tiredly, "If you aren't going to adhere to your punishment, the I'll have to let the Professor's know."

He narrowed his eyes. "I shouldn't even be punished-,"

"Because I'm a muggle-born who deserves it?" She shot back wryly, her head tilted to the side.

"Yes!" he answered before her words registered. She raised a brow. He sighed angrily. "I shouldn't be punished because it wasn't my idea."

She stared at him silently, and he could tell she didn't believe him. Not that it mattered what she thought.

"Either way, you have been punished, and that punishment is to prove you can work alongside me peacefully," he could tell she was just as pleased about it as he was. "And, as Head Girl, it's my job to ensure you're adhering to that."

He was sick of defending himself.

"I was working on Potions homework in the library; I don't have time to work on first year potions. I can't imagine your stupid club is much of a challenge."

She let out a tried sigh, and the gesture irritated him.

"Malfoy, we're in the same Potions class. When do you think I do my Potions homework?"

"I just assumed you don't sleep," He told her, haughtily.

He was trying to be rude, not funny, but he saw her lips turn up slightly at the edges. She composed herself immediately. It was odd sight to see.

"I do it at Potions club," she informed him. "I assume you were working on the Draught of Living Death today, at least the theory?"

He hesitated, wondering what trap she were leading him into. "Yes."

She tilted her head to the side, before speaking.

"We brewed that potion just this afternoon to practise. I have three members who are in our Potions class, and they're already going to be better at it then you are when we're tested on Wednesday."

He stared at her, calculating it in his head.

"Now, if you like, we'll be practising in the Greenhouses again tomorrow. If you want to have a chance at getting a good mark, then I suggest you show up. Otherwise, I'll have to tell the professors."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression bored, though deep down his interest was piqued.

"I'll think about it," he told her, though he knew he had no choice anyway.

She nodded, though she looked annoyed at his disinterest. "Goodnight, then."

She turned and headed back to her friends, before they made their way into the hall. He followed a moment later.

At the Slytherin table, things were tense to say the least.

Nott and Zabini glared at each other from opposite sides of the table, while Draco tried steadfastly to eat his dinner in peace.

Once Zabini had finished, he stood and left the hall, most likely headed to the library. Nott glared at him all the way.

"I wish you both would just agree to stay away from each other if all you're going to do it glare, and 'accidentally' throw food," Draco told Theo, annoyed. "I have potato in more places then I care to admit."

"He's the one that thinks he's too good for us," Nott shot back.

Draco sighed. He was going to have to fix this, or at least try. He couldn't live being stuck in the middle of it. If he had his own dorm, he wouldn't care, but he valued silence, and the constant arguments and snide remarks were getting on his nerves.

After he finished dinner that night, he headed to the library in the hopes that he would find Blaise. He searched through the shelves until he saw the boy seated at a private table across the room. He began to make his way over there, but froze as he saw another person take the seat opposite.

It was Granger. Draco narrowed his eyes. Were they meeting regularly, now that he was her saviour? He scowled at the thought.

He moved to the shelf behind their table, and leant against it in order to hear the conversation. He could see Granger through a gap between two books. She was note-taking.

"I just think it's stupid how I can't join the club because of the limit on people, but Malfoy gets to join because of a punishment." Blaise sulked.

He actually _wanted_ to join the Potions Club?

Hermione shrugged. "It was a safety precaution, so there's not too many people brewing unsupervised. I guess they made an exception on Malfoy's part."

He heard Zabini scoff. "They're always making exceptions for him."

He sounded so bitter. Didn't he realise that being forced to attend the Potions Club was the worst form of punishment for him?

"Don't be bitter," Hermione told him, as though reading Draco's mind. "You have a lot more than him, when you think about it."

Zabini stared at her, waiting for her to continue, and when she didn't he prompted her to go on.

"In what way?"

She hesitated. "I don't know...lot's of things."

"Such as?" he asked. He looked as though he were waiting for her to declare her undying love for him. It made Draco sick.

She sighed, closing her book and looking at him.

"I don't know anything about it, but I've seen the way his father speaks to him, and I can't imagine him being able to grow up any other way."

It was true, she didn't know anything about it. So why was she talking about him, like he was an abused baby dragon.

"That doesn't excuse him," Zabini responded, looking down-trodden that their conversation hadn't taken the path he intended.

"Of course not," she agreed, hastily. "But I stopped holding things against him a long time ago, because I understood that."

"I don't think he wants pity-,"

"I'm not giving him pity," she interrupted. "All I'm saying is, he is responsible for his actions, but I can see why he is the way he is."

"And what way it that?"

She thought for a moment, before replying. "Cold."

Draco suddenly didn't feel like forgiving Blaise, and instead left the library, angry at the betrayal.

He headed to the dorm, wondering how long they had been meeting, and how often he was a topic of conversation.

Draco wasn't sure if he could ever forgive Blaise for letting Granger speak badly about him. Maybe he was a blood traitor, and maybe there was just no hope for him. Or maybe, just maybe, Draco was the weak one.

But, even with all his flaws, at least he wasn't a traitor.


End file.
